


One Does Not Simply Kill My Husband

by Random_ag



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Card Games, Swearing, also what the hell are card games outside of uno, and so does kim, gambling? they use buttons so idk, i love her so much you cant believe, niamh is just like a crow, very smart but at the same time a complete fucking idiot, you think you can hurt her husband? you think that huh? well guess again motherfucker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 12:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17828522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: (Nor Stop Me, For That Matter)The staff manager of Joey Drew Studios is terrible at cards.





	One Does Not Simply Kill My Husband

Niamh’s unrestrained laugh was so sudden and so loud, everyone at the table nearly jumped out of their own skin.

 

“Awfully  _bold_  of you to assume Kim can be killed.” she finally elaborated as she stared straight into Thomas’s eyes.

 

The mechanic raised an eyebrow, slightly worried, and shuffled the cards in his hand a bit more: “Well, the last time I checked he couldn’t really land a punch…” he mumbled in response.

“He can land a knee, though.” Shawn butted in while putting two more buttons in the middle of the table. (Grant had made the rule that no actual money would be used on their card game nights to keep everybody’s pockets full by the end of the evening. Considering how much Shawn kept on placing on the bet, it had been a great idea.)

“And his thighs are probably made of steel.” added Johnny, eyes trying to spy Lacie’s cards and being greeted by a hostile grunt, “With all the dancing he does, I mean.”

 

“He could break my neck with those legs.”

 

Immediately Sammy raised a hand as a peace offering to Niamh, his other one pressed on the table to hide his cards: “He’s your husband, I got two of my own, I’m not gonna try shit.”

 

“If ya wanna hav’ an affair with him go ahead.” was the immediate reply.

 

About seven pair of eyes set on her with varying degrees of concerned surprise.

 

“You’re really just… Trying to make him cheat on you?” Jack questioned.

“So what? He’s got needs, and we’re not fucking anytime soon.”

“I thought you were fine with it.”

“I am, but he says he doesn’t wanna force me or anythin’.”

“Oh. Well, that’s very nice of him.”

 

Thomas coughed to bring the two aces’ attention back on track.

 

“As I was saying,” he grumbled, “As strong as his legs might be, if someone picks a fight with a person usually they start with a good ol’ fashioned punch in the face, or maybe the guts. And Kim doesn’t really strike me as someone who can either not get immediately knocked out or hit somebody strong enough to make them double over.”

Niamh hummed: “That does sound like a logical conclusion, Connor, I’ll give ya that. But yer forgettin’ somethin’.”

“Which would be?” Norman dared to ask.

 

“The fact that before ye can hit him yer being immediately murdered in cold blood by the destroyers of gods.”

 

Lacie neatly tucked her cards in a small deck and carefully placed them n the table, right between her elbows. Then she lifted her gaze onto the blonde woman and mentally excused her French as her lips parted to say: “Excuse me, what in the sweet name of fuck was that?”

 

“Ya can’t kill him ‘cause me and the boys will kill ya first.”

 

“Thaische is five.” the older woman pointed out.

She was met with a lovely smile.

 

“Doesn’t mean he can’t break God’s kneecaps with a cane.” replied the Irish woman before triumphantly putting down an eight of hearts, “Go fish.”

 

Shawn stared at the discarded card with a grimace: “We’re not playing Go Fish.”

She responded with knitted eyebrows and a confused: “Then what the hell ‘re we playin’, blackjack or somethin’?”

 

The look in the eyes of the Irishman summed up to those of the other players could have litterally drilled holes through her skull had she not been as unpenetrably dense as she was known to sometimes be.

 

Her not-brother threw his hands in the air enraged: “It’s goddamn poker!”

“Did you really think we were playing Go Fish this whole time?” Johnny inquired incredulous, as his friend jumped to his feet and paced behind him, screaming “How do ya even mistake poker for blackjack!?”

“Tell ya what, I have no clue how to play any of those three.” Niamh admitted.

“Wha-” Norman’s mouth flew open, “Niamh, why the hell did you even come to our card game night?”

“You invited me.”

“We thought you knew how to play!” Sammy replied.

“Well I thought we were gonna play like, Uno or somethin’.”

Thomas finally recoiled from the dissociating state he’d fallen into: “What kind of  _lunatic_  places bets while playing Uno?!”

“The kind that wants to spice things up, I guess?”

“You could have litterally just told us you didn’t know the rules.” Jack sighed, a little amused, “We would have taught you.”

“Listen, I was busy staring at me cards and tryin’ to get somethin’ outta them. I’ve had these four aces since the start and I still have no idea what t’ do.”

“Ya have  _four aces_?!” Shawn yelled.

“Why, ‘s that important?”

“Yer basically unbeatable!”

“Oh.” Niamh widened her eyes. “Focken’ nice.”

 

The other seven, objectively better players watched their buttons be taken by a pair of plump and cadaveric white hands. Thomas could only take a long suffering breath, collect everybody’s cards, and begin shuffling for a second match.

While Johnny was busy calming down the still furious toy maker, Norman turned to Niamh.

 

“You do actually know how to play poker,” he asked, staring straight into her soul, “Dontcha?”

 

Irises of the greyish blue typical of dead bodies responded to his glare.

 

“Abso-goddamn-lutely no.”

 

The old man nodded.

 

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Aye, fair enough.”

 

Each of the eight players gathered up their new freshly gotten cards, hoping for a luckier hand than that of the previous match. Niamh stared at her own in the same mindless way a goat having an existential crisis looks at the grass it was eating moments before.

 

“Ya need a hand?” Lacie offered.

“I’d rather die.”


End file.
